"Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chuang Tzu. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man."
—Chuang Tzu
Oh, Chuang Tzu... You were always a butterfly dreaming you were a man, and the writing you left behind proves it. Nature produces the spirit of a butterfly, and culture imprisons it in the concept of a man. But nature is more fundamental than culture, as the latter depends on the former, and not vice versa. The yearning to fly is more real than the thought that you can't.
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